


Domestic Bliss

by Imalwaysdown



Series: Not What It Seems [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Bulimia, Clay | Dream is So Whipped (Video Blogging RPF), Domestic Bliss, Domestic Violence, Domestic Violence Recovery, Eating Disorder Recovery, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Endings posted separately, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury Recovery, Jealous GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Later in the story, M/M, Manipulation, Miscommunication, Mr. Loverman, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Protectiveness, REALLY slow, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Romantic Angst, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sad GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Romantic Tension, and that would definitely take a while, glass animals - Freeform, happy ending included here, its unhealthy because they rely on each other too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imalwaysdown/pseuds/Imalwaysdown
Summary: Recovery and realizing you’re in love with your best friend don’t necessarily mix well together.—Title based off of “Domestic Bliss” by Glass Animals.-Happy ending :)
Relationships: Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)/Original Male Character(s), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Not What It Seems [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989637
Comments: 27
Kudos: 446





	Domestic Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this is the happy ending for Not What It Seems! 
> 
> Sorry for any confusion!! Just in the end, everything will be the same on each platform I have this work on. I am a mess so sorry. I am awful at orginization.

It had been a week. 

It had been a week since Dream had come to England, since he had flown all the way from America just to be with George--Since he ditched holiday dinners with his family, who sounded a little dissatisfied, but wasn’t necessarily angry. George still felt responsible for it all. He’d thought he ruined the family visits Dream usually had at that time of year.

The week had felt like two months, slowly itching forward as it filled itself with new feelings and vulnerabilities that George hadn’t thought of feeling when Dream first had come along. 

But George hadn’t really been that open, but he surely felt that way. Every time he felt like trusting Dream more, it had been like he had shown him more than he should. It was a loop of trusting Dream for a moment, letting himself be somewhat vulnerable without pounds of hesitation, to falling back into a pit of doubt and trust issues. 

“Would Dream take advantage of him?” Was a frequent question George had asked himself, “Just like everyone else did?” 

However, that thought also came with a variety of others. Some of them said Dream would never. Others said Dream wouldn’t even risk his reputation in order to do something like that. But most made him feel awful about thinking Dream would do it in the first place.

Especially when Dream had looked so excited then, tugging at George’s heart heartstrings in both good and bad ways. Dream was his friend after all. He had been sacrificing everything just to try to make George better and George had the audacity to think he was trying to ruin it all. 

“Your birthday is soon,” Dream piped up, placing a hand gently on George’s shoulder. They were up at the counter and cleaning together. They had mutually agreed on cleaning Wilbur’s house since he had done so much for them. 

George had actually proposed the thought after an hour of panic and realization that he couldn’t thank the guy enough. Dream had agreed, saying that Wilbur deserved it after he had slept on the couch all of those countless nights and even did the majority of cooking and getting them places.

“It is,” George said, tone monotone and undescriptive. 

Dream seemed to realize he wasn’t so excited, so he pulled his hand away, going back to scrub the dishes. 

It was appreciated that he wasn’t so dense to George’s feelings and could usually sense it when George wasn’t comfortable with something. However, only a few times would he know when George didn’t feel right. He hadn’t even fully been aware of everything George didn’t feel comfortable with and to go much farther, he was almost completely clueless as to what George had been through.

“Anyway,” Dream continued, smiling as widely as before, “it’s actually in two days. You excited?”

“Yeah,” He lied, thinking about all of the unwanted attention a birthday would bring him. He wiped the table and counters absentmindedly and ignored the burden of lightheadedness he normally was given from standing up and using so much of his energy.

Dream shrugged at George’s unenthusiastic attitude, “come on, George. Don't you love birthdays?”

How could Dream act like nothing changed? “Used to. I just don’t want to have you spending as much money on me as you usually do for it. You already blew money to come down here and I’m going to a highly expensive therapist in a few days--that you paid for. That’s enough.”

Dream had looked pained by that. “I didn’t ‘blow money’ I spent money to come down and be with you. That’s a worthy spend on money. It’s helping you. I’d do anything if it meant to get you better.”

There was no way George wouldn’t argue that the expensive spends Dream made on him was worthless. He knew his troubles were the biggest burden Dream had taken upon himself to help carry. He shouldn’t have to buy him things too.

Yet, he didn’t work up the courage to voice that opinion.

“Okay,” George muttered, throwing away the wipes and sitting down on one of the chairs, “what even are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to take you to some places, but I’ve bought you a couple of things,” Dream excitedly told him.

“Oh really?” George’s eyes caught Dream in a lingering stare. “Thank you, Dream.”

“But I wanted to know if there was anything special you know you want?” 

George thought for a second, not finding anything he could pin down. “Not really.”

“Oh, come on now,” Dream stressed, “I want to get something special!”

“I don’t know,” George said, shifting around, “Just surprise me with whatever you feel like I’d like.”

Dream looked like he was thinking for a moment, considering what George said. 

“Alright then,” Dream said, “can you come and turn the water back on? My hands are all soapy and gross. I don’t feel like getting the nob all wet.”

George walked up, doing what he said. They were almost pressed against one another, but George realized something.

Dream smelled nice, like strawberry shampoo and cologne. Nothing like cigarettes and citrus like he was used to smelling the past few months. It was welcoming, kinder and softer. It wasn’t too strong and it didn’t clog up his senses in an obnoxious way--although he would let it. He would surround himself in it if he could. 

George realized he was still awkwardly pressed against Dream’s side. He backed away, contemplating his thoughts from just seconds before. 

“I- Uh-,” Dream stuttered, “Wilbur isn’t awake yet but do you think we-we should make breakfast?”

“Yeah,” George replied, “it’s the least I could do, but I’m feeling kind of rough this morning so I probably won’t have much.”

Dream looked like he wanted to say something about that, tugging his lip in between his teeth. Nonetheless, words were left unsaid. 

Breakfast had been started, food was laid out on the table, and Wilbur had been up and eating it. Dream had been sitting at the table too, receiving the countless grateful comments about the deeds that had been done.

Meanwhile, George was in the bathroom arguing with himself. The mental battle in his mind didn’t help the nausea he felt already and he wanted so desperately to get out of it all. He almost begged himself to call out and let Dream come and pull himself from this state of mind.

But what would happen? Could it all go wrong?

He held himself back, telling himself there were too many chances that something could go wrong. Begging for help would just be stupid and asking to have everything ruined again. 

There’s a knock at the door, making George turn his head a little too fast. He felt himself almost fall, so he grabbed onto the white counter top of the bathroom sink. 

“Yeah?” He mumbled, ignoring the gnawing headache. If he could get all of the medicine in the world, his head would still manage to have the painful sting all over his head. Migraines had been something he started to get used to once he had deprived himself of even more food. He’d go days without eating and then only treat his body with something small. He wondered how he managed to get away with it all. 

Either Dream and Wilbur were blinded by everything else going on, wanted it to happen, or he was a great liar. He didn’t know which one was worse. 

“Are you going to come eat?” Dream asked, following it up with another question, “you okay in there?”

“Mhmm,” George hummed, “yeah. I already said I didn’t feel any good.”

George began to feel his head become even more light, his body falling softly to the ground. He took in a quick breath of air as his head spun and vision went blurry. 

“George? You don’t sound like you’re good,” Dream noted, “Is it okay if I come in?”

As much as George wanted to continue pretending to be okay, his body felt weak and aching, as if he’d been hit by a car--not that he hadn’t considered really feeling that too. 

As soon as George replied with a yes, holding his head in his hands, Dream rushed in and came straight to sit himself at his side.

“What happened?” Dream asked. His worry seemed to be through the roof, hence the tears that began to flow subtly down his freckled cheeks, “are you okay?”

It was clear to George that he almost fainted due to the lack of food. If he had mentioned that, Dream would leave him there and call him weak. He would shout at him about how bad he was at giving into his own eating disorder. 

“I’m okay,” George said, “j-just tired.”

“No. that’s not true,” Dream pointed, scooting away for a second, pointing to the ground, “if you’re okay then stand up for me.”

George was in deep shit. “I’m sorry,” he weakly mumbled out. 

As much as he tried to stand, the muscles of his legs couldn’t even carry his own body weight enough to keep him straight up. He was back down in seconds, crying because he knew he was all of this was just going to cause trouble.

It was disgraceful, the fact he couldn’t even eat a little less without his body freaking out. Leo wanted him to be healthy, but all his body wanted was more and more. His body should be able to manage going just a few days without stuffing his face and the fact that it couldn’t made him feel disgusting. 

He forgot Leo wasn’t there for those few seconds, quickly mumbling out a, “I’m sorry I promise I’ll try harder next time. I-Its been so e-“

“What?” Dream asked, “try harder to do what?”

George didn’t answer, instead propping himself against the bathroom sink. Wordlessly staring off into space.

After a few moments of stressful silence, Dream hastily called for Wilbur. Jogging in, Wilbur came to George’s other side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Inevitably, George jumped, almost backing away as well. 

George’s eyes were closed. He was slowly breathing in and out as he waited for the worse to happen. 

“What happened?” He heard a muffled Wilbur say. 

“I have no clue,” Dream said, “all I know is that he can’t stand and it looks like he’s about to pass out. Should we bring him to an ER?”

The frightening, most dreaded question came next. It was a concerned ask from Wilbur, one that threw George off a little. “George when was the last time you ate?”

Nothing came out of him. Crawling up into a hole deemed ideal to him at the moment. He definitely was about to be fucked up, but he would rather be caught in honesty rather than a little white lie. 

He decided not to say anything when he heard Wilbur speak again.

“I don’t remember the last time I saw him eat,” Wilbur began, sounding defeated, “I mean, he says he eats before or after meals we have together or he says that he doesn’t feel good.”

Regardless of the genuine gentleness of his voice, Wilbur’s words had begun to feel twisted in George’s ears. Wilbur must be angry at him, it was expected.  
He had to be honest. The situation was obvious now and this new problem they would have to face was evident. He couldn’t keep it away anymore, even if it would end in them shaming him for his body. “I’m lying. I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a few days.”

...

“No-no,” Dream breathed, his throat began to feel tight. He had asked himself when the tears had started to fall prominently along his features, “It’s okay. We just need to take you somewhere, get you help and get you something to eat.”

Dream wanted to break everything in the room, tear it all down until nothing was left. The rushing anger felt even worse when George looked like he was taken surprised by Dream’s words. 

“You get him into the car and I’ll make something light for his stomach,” Wilbur said.

George’s words haunted him as he helped him get up and walk to the car, George’s body leaning against his own. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder next time.”

George got himself the rest of the way into the car, ignoring the protests of Dream. Dream let him, knowing he probably felt like he was being babied too much. He knew how stubborn George could be sometimes. 

Once George was in the car, it had taken all of Dream to stop himself from driving his way to wherever Leo was and beating him until he was bloody enough to be unrecognizable. 

He knew exactly what George meant when he said what he said.

“I’ll be right back,” Dream said to George once he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked to the room he and George stayed in and slammed the door closed.

“Fuck!” He cursed, leaning his head on the wall and slamming his fist into it. His knuckles burned and scrapes were beginning to show, yet he didn’t feel himself caring enough. His anger was too distracting. 

He ran his fingers through his thick hair as the warm blood that ran rapidly through his body scorched his skin. His head ached, his throat felt dry and the room appeared to close in on him. It felt tight and suffocating, giving him the need to get out. 

“I’ll fucking kill him,” He told Wilbur once he was out of the room, “it’s all his fault. That mother fucker is the reason this is happening.”

“Wait? What?” Wilbur questioned as he suddenly quit stirring the food he had, “you mean Leo is the reason George hasn’t been eating?”

“George start-started telling me he ‘could do better next time.’ There’s no other reason he would say that,” Dream stated, clenching his fists. Every single ounce of him hated Leo for everything he had done. Before, the hatred had been spread out and there were only moments he felt like everything was against him, but now the fury came back and hit him as hard as it could. 

“Really? We might need to ask George some questions,” Breathed Wilbur, “and the soups heated up. We should go now.”

Grabbing the small portion of soup and a couple water bottles, they brought themselves and their things to the car. Dream climbed into the back, handing George everything he needed.

“Do you feel like eating this?” Dream asked, “I know it doesn’t feel like the right time to try and get you to eat but--but you need to try.”

“You don’t have to,” Wilbur butt in, “but if you don’t want to feel more lightheaded then you should.”

George’s eyes shifted around like he was thinking of what to do--or maybe trying to find out if he was even okay or not. Dream really couldn’t put a finger on it. 

“Here. It’s okay if you eat. That’s what we want,” Dream suggested, pulling out another small bowl that they had grabbed last minute, “I got some for me too. How ‘bout we eat together? Would that make you feel any better?”

“No?” Almost sounding like he was asking that was a valid answer, “when we get there I’ll eat it. I don’t want to spill it everywhere. You know we will have to wait forever.”

“Oh,” Dream went, “That’s okay. You can do what you want. As long as you do end up eating it soon.”

George began to tear up, looking away from Dream and at the floorboard. Dream also noticed him shaking and pulling nervously at his clothes. 

He was panicking, Dream could see that. There was something wrong, but Dream didn’t blame him. He had no idea what was coming now that everyone knew he hadn’t been eating. 

“Do you want to lay your head down?” Dream asked and continued when George nodded, “Here.”

George laid his head onto Dream’s lap where he patted it, facing the back of the driver’s seat. 

“Did Leo ask you to do this?” Dream had asked after a few minutes of silence and letting George calm himself down. He let his fingers run through the short dark hair. George's hair felt smooth and soft, yet greasy. He hummed and remembered that George had taken a shower last night. He shouldn’t have dirty hair if he had washed it. 

Maybe his hair just got greasy easily. 

“Uh,” George began, “He’s helping me get healthier. Said I need to cut back a few things.”

“George, He’s delusional. That’s nowhere near healthy,” Dream said, playing with a piece of longer hair. 

“Come to think of it,” Wilbur began, “that guy ate a bunch when I was there. He’s probably insecure about himself.”

“He does eat a bunch sometimes,” George told them, “but we-we never ate together that much.”

Dream held back his threatening thoughts, not wanting to scare George any more than he already was. He continued to play with his hair, curling it between his fingers.

“I’m sorry about-about all of this,” George stuttered, “I didn’t mean for it to get this way.”

“It’s okay,” Wilbur assured, parking the car, “not your fault and….plus, you needed a doctor’s visit anyway.”

After gathering up everything and taking it inside, George followed slowly behind. They sat at a couple of seats and pulled out the food. 

“They-they’re all looking at me,” George stuttered. His voice wavered. “They’re judging me.”

“Oh,” Dream mumbled, catching the eyes of a few people and even giving some of them stares in hopes they would look away, “Ignore them. Let’s just eat.”

Dream faced George as they began to eat the small portion together. As much as they avoided eye contact, it felt more comforting to be in the presence of each other. 

“Alright,” Dream began once George was through, “you did great. I’m proud of you, George.”

“Im proud of you as well,” Wilbur declared. He gave a wide smile. 

George was hard to read, but he muttered a quick “thank you” and did his own thing on his phone. 

They had waited for nearly an half an hour before they were able to go, but George had asked specifically to be alone while the doctors took care of him. 

“Are you guys family?” The nurse had asked.

“No they aren’t.” George answered honestly, rubbing his neck. Dream had secretly hoped he would let them be in there with him, but he didn’t want to make George uncomfortable. “I don’t want them in there.”

“Alright,” The nurse said, waving her hand in the direction they were about to go, “come on with me.”  
…

It had been about an hour or two before the nurse came out. 

“We are going to keep him in the hospital until we can sort of,” She trailed off, “get him back to normal. We’ll tell you everything once we get you to his room.”

They walked quickly to one of the rooms, setting down on chairs as the doctor began talking. She had a male nurse beside her and the woman who had walked them in. 

Dream had noticed their judgmental looks they gave to George, but he let them slide. 

Dream looked at George, who had been silently staring off. 

“He wouldn’t tell us what happened with the bruises,” She started, “but we are allowed to tell you we think he has Anorexia. Has he avoided any meals? He may have even thrown his food up some times...He’s severely underweight and we have done many lab tests that can lead to this conclusion, but we need your answers to know for sure.”

Dream felt his heart begin to break into pieces, like the world was taking a hammer to his heart and smashing it into ashes. Dream didn’t know how to deal with new information like this, even if he knew what was going on before, being bluntly told the the possible diagnosis was terrifying.

“Yes,” Dream forced himself to say, “he has avoided almost every meal since we have been with him.”

Her expression showed pity, but she went back to talking, “we’ll have to keep him a couple nights to get him back to better health. But you should know Anorexia causes a lot of problems that are long term too. We might need to get him to a mental hospital if that’s—“

“No,” George said, “sorry, I just don’t want to go to one.”

As much as Dream wanted to believe it would help, he felt that what George needed was different. George didn’t need the stress of countless doctors on him about eating, he needed someone patient and willing to help. He needed someone who understood. 

“I don’t think it will be the best,” Dream said, “is there anything else?”

“Well,” The female nurse butt in, raising her eyebrows, “never thought I’d see a thing like this. You’d think an adult would know better! He must be desperate for attention.”

Dream desired to hit the woman, to see her shocked face as he slapped the smug expression off of it. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Don’t you dare talk to my wife that way!” The male nurse said, “she’s just telling her opinion. And she’s right! You never hear men having one. Normal people suck it up and work out!”

Dream stood up, getting in his face, resisting every urge to grab his collar and hit him too. The nurse had to be at least six inches shorter than him. “I swear I will— If you don’t fucking get on with it and keep your dumb ass opinions to yourself then I’ll make you fucking regret saying anything to us.” 

The guy looked threatened. Dream felt a sense of pleasure in the fact that it worked. He wouldn’t call himself intimidating that often, but the nurse had been crossing lines. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to touch anyone and get arrested.

“Alright,” The doctor interrupted with an abrupt cough, looking at the two nurses, “you should probably go. I’ll inform everyone of your behavior if you don’t open up and apologize later.”

The nurses nervously walked away and the doctor went back to explaining things. “I recommend getting him good quality therapy if you don’t want to go any further. If you are with him all the time I’d say you keep a close eye on him. You may feel like a controlling parent in these situations but it’s for the better.”

She was right, Dream did feel he’d been acting that way. George was no kid and the constant care and prying felt wrong. He knew he was doing everything he could the right way, but what did George think? 

“We are getting him therapy soon. It's really expensive but we are hoping it will be good,” Wilbur told her, “we all need a little something.”

“Thank you for your time,” The doctor said, “I’m going to go and we’ll come back with you with the proper diagnosis and we might give him some medication to help weight gain.” 

“Okay,” Dream said as he watched her walk away. He finally got a good look at George, who was still with shock. 

“Wait. What’s wrong?” He asked, scooting up to George, “you okay?”

“I’m sorry for this,” He said, shaky breath and everything, “you shouldn’t have to deal with me. I’m sorry you got mad.”

Dream gasped from the sudden realization. He scared George when he got aggressive with the doctors. “Oh my god I’m so fucking dumb.”

He looked at George, giving him sincerity and gentleness in his words, “I’m sorry George. I’m not mad at you okay? I was mad at those dickheads who were insulting you.”

He didn’t continue when George had said nothing back. 

Wilbur tapped Dream on his shoulder, interrupting them. He signaled Dream to follow him outside.

“We need to go to the cops,” Wilbur said, “we really need to. You saw how he was. Leo must have fucking starved him! That asshole deserves to be put in jail for the rest of his life.”

“I don’t know,” Dream shrugged, “I think we should wait until George would be better to do it. That way he won’t be as mad if we have to end up doing it behind his back.”

“I know but,” Wilbur argued, “Wouldn’t you want him gone too?”

Dream thought for a second. Would this be the best idea? “We will talk about this later.”

George had been sitting on his bed when they came back, just time before.

“How do you feel about all this?” 

“I don’t know,” George shrugged, “I just wanna sleep and forget everything happened.”

“That’s okay,” Dream said, “if you want to sleep we’ll be quiet but I’m still right here.”

“Thank you,” George said, “goodnight dream.”

It was still day, so Dream giggled at his joke. “Goodnight.”

…

Dream had thought for a while. There was something special he’d like to do.

Night had already come and he was the only one awake at the time. Wilbur had gone home to his own bed and George was softly snoring in the hospital bed.

Dream had quickly gone out to get himself a notebook and pen while George was asleep. He had thought he’d write something special for his birthday soon.

After all, it would be nice after spending his birthday in a hospital and diagnosed with malnutrition.

Dream had already bought and made George a lot, but he wanted something special and genuine.

He wanted to make something to let George know he cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and kudos appreciated! Love y’all to death <3
> 
> I have a discord!
> 
> https://discord.gg/AAzmeDag8Z


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